Ci)oug;f)ts anti Eeteries 



of an 



...American Bluejacket... 

3545 
13 T5 *■" 

'V ^ Ernest Vincent Wright. U. S. N. 



mm 



^r 



Copyriahted 1918 by E. V. Wright 



Ci)oust)ts anti 3^f\)eritfi 



of an 



. . . American ^Sluejacfeet. . . 



by 



Ernest Vincent Wright, U. S. N. 




Copyrighted 1918 by E. V. Wright 






FEB -8 1918 



©CU491485 



THE LONESOME BLUEJACKET 

Great multitudes who cheer and weep 

And smile thro' tear-dimmed eye. 
Line curb and windows, waving flags, 

To bid the boys good-bye. 
With martial music from the bands. 

The khaki-lads sweep past. 
While parents look, with sinking hearts. 

And sweethearts stand aghast. 

Thus goes the Army. Still, howe'er. 

Another force must go. 
Brave fellows too; proud, vigorous, strong. 

Yet they're sent, devoid of show. 
No blaring bands, no waving hands, — 

'Tis lonesome as can be 
At midnight in the Navy Yard 

W^hen the Fleet puts out to sea ! 

Shore leave is o'er some hours before. 

And all whose homes are near, 
Have taken leave in privacy 

Of those they hold most dear. 
But wait ! Do all Jwrc folks to leave ? 

Nay ! Many there are like me. 
VV^ith no one living now, to care 

When the Fleet puts out to sea. 

In spite of guards, police and such, 

Some suffering feminine hearts 
Plunge madly down the gloomy pier 

Just as the vessel starts. 
With anguished gaze they scan the crew, — 

But nay ! It is not for me ; — 
Since mother died there's no one now 

Cares zvlicii I go to sea. 

Oh. for a fluttering handkerchief ! 

Oh, for a heart-felt sigh; 
At the gang-plank ! Oh, for a farewell kiss 

When the order comes, — "Stand by !" 
How I crave a pair of clinging arms 

To revive the Soul in me ! 
To hold on tight, like they'd forbid 

The Fleet to put to sea ! 

1 



Oh, well ! Maj^be when "over there," 

Where enemy submarines swarm, 
I'll do my part as well as those 

Who have some "folks at home." 
Home ? Ah, God ! That wondrous place 

Which mother made for me ! 
Henceforth 'tis where I hang my hat 

When the Fleet puts out to sea ! 

The great ships carry ponderous guns 

And thousands of tons of coal, 
But the heaviest thing by far on board 

Is a lonely sailor's Soul ! 
And when we're back, the boys will rush 

Into yearning arms they'll see. 
But I'll take a nap ; nobody cares 

When I come back from sea ! 



A SAILOR'S FRIENDS AT SEA 

When the fleet steams out at sunset 
And the sea is red and gold : 
When the dying day brings phantoms 
Of those happier days of old; 
Wlien timid stars are peeping 
Through the haze above the sea — 
Ah 1 Then departed loved ones 
Come back — to comfort me. 

When the true steel grey of twilight 

Spans the horizon's rim 

I see Dad's noble countenance 

And raise my eyes to him. 

The grandeur of the cloud-fields 

Recalls his love for me — 

And I love to feel he's watching 

As I'm way, way out at sea. 

2 



And when two tiny starlets 

Like sleepy babies blink 

My two wee sisters gaze at me. 

Their minds too young to think ; 

Yet watching, with their cherub eyes, 

As the dusk enshrouds the sea. 

I love to feel their innocence 

As a guardian over me. 

But ah ! When wondrous splendor 

Has set the heavens ablaze ! 

When scarlet, purple, green and pink 

Are pierced by golden rays ! 

Look there ! Up high ! Way over all ! 

Ah, God ! Thou art good to me 

To thus bring Mother's face — to cheer 

And guide me — out at sea ! 

Alas ! They're but sweet memories now, 

So I'll sail on each day; 

Knowing my sunset visitors will 

For the lonely days repay. 

And when the fleet half-masts its flags 

As it's apt to do — for me 

I'll try to cheer some sailor lad. 

As I gaze down on the sea 

OLD GLORY'S BRIDE 

Old Glory, long the Nation's pride, 
Supreme throughout the land so wide. 
Standing for Liberty, Peace and Love. 
Its record pure as the skies above, 
Comes, at last, to that stage of life 
Where he feels the need of a helpful wife 
To carry, with him, at least a share 
Of the many burdens he has to bear. 
So, in looking round, his leading thought 
Was that the lady surely ought 
To match his own complexion ; so 
He looked for one who'd cheeks aglow 
In red and white. Then, to his mind, 
Came the idea that could he find 
One blest with eyes like stars, she'd be 
The essence of propriety. 



He found her ; for he did not lag. 

And he called his bride "The Service Flag.' 

Quoth he, "I'll call the fighters out. 

I'll lead them as they march and shout. 

I'll spur them on thro' battle's heat. 

For I have never known defeat ! 

I'll show this fighting, war-mad age 

The finest troops of History's page !" 

"And." quoth his gentle bride. "I'll stay 

Outside their homes by night and day. 

I'll tell the world they've made the start 

And left home with a hero's heart! 

I'll show a star for every man. 

So get me every one you can ! 

While you, my brave, go forth to roam 

Your wife's place is. you know, at home." 

So let's all hail Old Glory's mate ! 

And let no person hesitate 

To give salute when passing by. 

A home from which she's seen to fly. 

For in those homes the hearts are sad. 

Yet swelled with hope that every lad 

Alay soon return, to see. with pride. 

His star upon Old Glory's bride ! 



STRANDS OF BLUE 



Why do we hear. "Help the khaki lads !' 
And "The boys who are over there?" 
Why does the slogan "Trenches first!" 
Ring out at you everywhere? 
Why is it ninety-nine per cent 
Of the knit goods are of brown? 
Is it because brown khaki suits 
Are common sights in town? 



But now and then, God bless her soul, 

Some noble little heart, 

Knits strands of blue ! So, maybe, then 

There is another part 

Of the fighting forces of the land! 

Why, certainly ! Hadn't you heard 

Of the great ships waiting off the coast, — 

Just waiting for the word? 



'Tis cold in trenches, deep with mud, 

In a ditch up to your neck ; 

But didn't you know? Oh, dear me! Yes, 

It's also cold on deck 

Of a speeding lank torpedo-boat. 

Racing along its way! 

And the cold gets at your "innards" 

If you stand there night and day. 



"Boys in the trenches !" Tell me, please. 

How they got "over there !" 

They couldn't march ; they didn't swim ; 

Well, well, now, I declare ! 

It must have been the Navy lads ! 

Yes ! Sure ! That's how it came. 

That half a million khaki lads 

Got there to play the game ! 



The Navy lads ! The happy lads. 
Who sing and scrap and dance ! 
With hats shaped like a blueberry pie 
And their floppy, flappy pants ! 
Oh! They're real boys of sterling build; 
Who, while the "khakis" sleep. 
Shiver, while hunting periscopes, — 
Those terrors of the deep ! 



Hurrah ! I say, for the Army lads ! 
All honor their suits of brown ! 
Their courage, skill, integrity, 
Are objects of renown. 
But also "Hurrah !" loud and strong, 
For the brave bluejackets, too! 
And "hats off" to the little girl 
With her needles "cast on" with blue ! 



AT SEA 

Is a sailor lonely at sea? Ah! ask 

Of many a hundred men 

Whose folks are dead, whose one-time friends 

Will not think of them again. 

When the mail arrives 'tis a joyous hour 

For all but those, like me, 

Who have few blood-ties left, to write ; — 

Ah ! Then 'tis lonely at sea ! 

But look ! A note from an unknown friend ! 

(Or a post-card which cost a penny) 

And your name is called by the letter-clerk 

Instead of the gruflf "Not any !" 

How your name gleams out on the envelope 

As in days that used to be 

When all the departed loved ones wrote — 

Before it was lonely at sea ! 

A chance may come when maybe I 

Some valorous act may do 

Receiving, perhaps, an honor badge 

'Midst the plaudits of the crew. 

Yet, where's the joy? No praise from "Dad." 

No mother's smile for me — 

Only a headline, perhaps, in print — 

And it's lonelier still — at sea ! 

6 



Some day the ship will start for "home," 

How that word makes you start 

When months and years its sound has not 

Been known inside your heart ! 

Of course our home's aboard the ship. 

Canst call it "home"? Ah. me! 

'Tis slander, almost, on the word — 

My ! It's lonely at sea !" 



THE POWER OF A SMILE 

When your lonely and downhearted 
With your folks all dead and gone, 
And question whether living's worth the while ; 
When the world seems cold and boundless 
Though it's filled with others' joys. 
How you crave the warming sunshine of a 
smile ! 

After j'-ears of heartsick longing 

For the friendly welcome hand. 

The warmth of which upon your own remains. 

If you meet it unexpectedly 

How vain to even try 

To analyze the Power it contains ! 

How this hand and smile do reach 

The deep spots of your heart. 

Where cold and chill and hopelessness have 

dwelt ! 
What true, wholehearted beams of light 
Shine from a true friend's face. 
When trying to make a welcome really felt ! 

Then, see! The world seems brightening! 

Like darkness before dawn. 

The clouds of loneliness are fading fast ; 

The world seems almost rosy ! 

For smiles straight from a heart 

Can melt the wildest, coldest wintry blast. 

7 



I 



All the public orators 
Who ever stirred the world, 
Or poets with their sonnets that beguile, 
Cannot in all their glory- 
Even partially exert 
A fraction of the power of a smile. 

True welcome is a simple thing; — 

A smile of beaming warmth, 

A twinkling of the eyes, and that is all ; 

But with it comes that wondrous thing. 

That magic clasp of hand. 

Before which icy loneliness must fall. 

And so you'll find where'er j-ou go, 

No matter who you meet. 

The welcome there will never be worth while. 

Without that curious "something."' — 

That heaven-sent mystery 

Which puts such mighty power in a smile ! 



FOR BRAVERY? 

My little boy has died. The fight 

Was over in an hour ; 
The great ships circled, raced and belched 

Their holocausts of power. 
Whilst admiral and captain ruled 

He waved flags at their side. 
Just as he used to at my knee ; — 

But now "little boy" has died ! 

My "little" boy? Yes! Such he was! 

Though he was twenty-three, 
I saw him only as a babe, 

Just "little boy" to me ! 
And when his puppet soldiers fell. 

He'd stop if he saw I "cried." 
But, oh ! These great ships didn't stop ; — 

And — my little boy has died ! 

8 



Ah! What could he do? Why was he there! 

With his Httle flags to wave ? 
He used to pla.v with wee flags once. 

And march round, big and brave. 
While I — I watched and guided him 

'Till he slumbered at my side. 
I must have slumbered too ; for now, 

My little boy has died. 

My little boy with his waving flags 

Has wandered from my knee. 
His little flags were found with him. 

As he floated on the sea. 
They're having a medal made for me. 

Inscribed upon one side 
"For bravery!" Nay! Put there, instead. 

"My little boy has died." 



ODE TO MY SWEATER 

1 
Cling round my form. oh. vest of wool; 
You. who have come to me 
From some unknown but generous friend 
As I m readj^ for the sea. 
Who sent you here ? What ? Speak up, loud ! 
Where are the nimble hands 
That made you, you warm-hearted thing. 
From simple woolen strands ? 

2 

Was it in school at recess time 

She passed all games aside. 

To "cast on eighty- four." to start 

You, object of her pride? 

Or was it at some college dance 

She wove your walls of grey? 

Or was she on a bed of pain? 

Oh, say not so, I pray ! 

9 



3 
Were you made by a glowing hearth 
With lights down, soft and low? 
And did she sing, and gently rock 
A cradle with her toe? 
Or were you born in a trolley car 
With its clang and bang and lurch ? 
Or (whisper softly in my ear). 
Sh-h ! Were you made in church f 

4 
Don't tell me she was old and poor 
And great privations stood 
To save the money for the yarn 
To make you thick and good ! 
Whatever the story of your birth 
Please, please don't be so mean. 
Even if true, to say that you 
Were }}iadc on a machine! 

5 
Alay every blessing, every joy, 
And every happiness be 
The just reward of her, who sent 
You here, old chap, to me. 
And when your loving, clinging strands 
Around my form are curled. 
They'll prove American women are 
The finest in the world ! 

HANGING THE FLAG 

Should the star-field hang to right or left? 

Is asked by those of reason bereft. 

You'll find Old Glory, no matter how tied, 

Is never "back-to"; has no "wrong side!" 

Its stars, in battle, shone just as bright. 

Whether flown to left or waved to right. 

W'hichever side's exposed to view 

Its message of "Liberty" gleams at you ! 

Forget how the Star-Spangled Banner is 

hung ! 
Put your energies into getting it sung! 
Take out your flag from box or shelf 
(Or buy one today, if you've none, yourself) ; 
Hang it left or right, on pole or screen. 
But GET IT UP SOMEHOW, where it can be seen! 
10 



THE MASTERPIECE 

The Angels of Heaven, so they say 

Congregated one glorious day 

On a vast expanse of snowy clouds. 

They came in groups, they came in crowds ; 

For a contest, open to all. was on 

To see who best could improve upon 

The wonderful, exquisite things 

That throng the glorious Realms of Wings. 

One angel, noble and grand to see 

Displayed a beautiful flowering tree; 

Another a statue of fairy grace. — 

Wondrous of form, grand of face. 

Others exhilnted works of art. 

And lots of them chose the human heart 

As being more beautiful, as itself, 

Than anything known by man or elf. 

As the contest waged the multitudes 

Flocked to display their wondrous goods 

With "Oh's" and "Ah's" from far and wide. 

Till look ! Came an angel from one side. 

Hiding beneath her folded wing. 

Everyone felt, some exquisite thing. 

And the multitudes around her whirled 

As she delicately her wing unfurled. 

What was it? Radiance most serene. 

Or Art such angels ne'er had seen? 

Or was it a burst of music grand? 

Or a blossom supreme, made by her hand ? 

And why was that mighty concourse stilled 

W^ith admiration ; and rapture filled. 

As the Angel, known as Goodness, stood 

In the midst of that eager multitude? 

A Soul emerged from beneath her wing. 

It stood there in that mighty ring. 

A girlish figure in purest white 

Surrounded by a wondrous light 

Of Loyalty. Charity, Truth and Strength 

Of character. Love, until, at length 

The ring closed in with a joyous whirl. — 

And named the prize — "the American Girl !' 

11 



THE NAVY'S CHRISTMAS TREE 



It quietly came aboard, unseen. 

This wonderful, beautiful thing. 

And lay in hiding throughout the day 

Huddled in some dark passageway. 

With its carols all ready to sing. 

Through the terrible Dreadnaught. solely built 

To belch forth fire and death, 

The crew were lying in groups about. 

Their minds on Christmas at home, no doubt. 

With, perchance, a catch of the breath. 

'Twas all so cruel, cold and hard. 

The sea so bare, so vast, 

It could not be that Christmas-tide 

Could find them on that waste so wide. 

And they fell asleep, — at last. 

But oh ! Behold ! When they awoke 

There, in their wondering gaze 

It stood; a beautiful thing of love. 

Bringing its message of peace above, — 

Shedding its love-lit rays ! 



Its scented boughs poured on the air. 

So pregnant with oil and steam. 

The real home odor of shady woods. 

It banished all thought of worldly goods ; 

It stood there ; a crystalized dream ! 

It whispered softly of peace on earth 

In this fortress of hell-fire here. 

But through its smiles, each tinsel rope 

Gradually drooped with departing hope, 

And each crystal turned to a tear ! 

Glistening tears were these tinsels gay 

Which bravely their smiles had kept ; 

But cannon and machine-guns, glum. 

Told of such bloodshed sure to come. 

That even the candles wept ! 

12 



"Oh! Load these cannon with love!" the}' 

cried, 
"Instead of powder ; and then 
Let go a broadside of Christmas joys 
That will smother the loudest battle's noise !" 
And the sailors sighed, "Amen !" 



MY GUARDIAN 

Since mother died I've often seen 

While gazing o'er the sea. 

Resplendent in the racing foam 

Her figure, watching me. 

It follows me thro storm and sun. 

It rides on the fleecy foam. 

And o'er the roar of the surf, I hear. 

Her plaintive plea, "Come home !" 

Full well, I know\ when battle comes. 
And our vessel belches flame. 
From every port, still shall 1 see 
My vision just the same. 
Bright as a light-ray from the Throne 
'Twill shine thro the smoky air. 
Exalted, itself, o'er earthh' harm. 
Freed from all mortal care. 

And some day, should some mighty shell 

Snuflf out my lonely life. 

My vision will vacate at once 

The scenes of blood and strife; 

And when I fall, she'll quickly come 

Thro gas and smoke and gloam. 

With outstretched hand, — and I'll obey 

Her joyous cry, — "Come home !" 



13 



iiS^ '^ CONGRESS 

wm. 



